


Sex Ed

by CrimsonLoveSong



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Gen, High School AU, M/M, Quarterback! Marco, trans!Armin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-01-16 01:03:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1325914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimsonLoveSong/pseuds/CrimsonLoveSong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean is beyond pissed when Marco Bodt, the new kid at Trost High, earns the position that was rightfully his: the starting quarterback. But what happens when he is paired for mock-parenthood with this strange newcomer? More importantly, what are those raging teenaged hormones that they're supposed to be learning about doing to his head?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mistaken

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lownly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lownly/gifts).



Chapter One: Mistake

 

He approached the Gym door with baited breath. This was it, the final roaster of the Varsity football team, he’d been waiting for this ever since he’d been moved up to varsity his freshman year- the chance to be Jean Kirschtien: starting varsity quarterback, the hero of the school, the one all the scouts would notice, not to mention the one that would get all the ladies. 

He was nearly guaranteed the spot with his dedication and obvious skill, sure Jaegar was good, but he was famed for being the running back of the team. They may not have gotten along, but Jean had to admit, Trost high school did not have a faster set of legs. He ran a hand through his messy, sand-colored hair and drew another shaky breath before he looked first on the second string roaster, his name nowhere in sight, it was a good sign. Without hesitation, his eyes frantically scanned the list of starters until they found #6 Jean Kirschtien—Tight End. 

Jean shook his head and look the list over again and again, maybe he’d read it wrong, he hadn’t played tight end since Hannes had broken his wrist sophomore year. Shaking his head, he decided to look up at the Quarterback position; surely Coach Smith hadn’t made the mistake of giving Eren the position of quarterback? The black ink stood out, mocking him. Eren wasn’t the quarterback at least, but the roaster mocked him just the same, reading “Marco Bodt, #7 – Starting Quarterback”. Who the hell was Marco Bodt? He searched his mind, there wasn’t anyone with that name in school last year…maybe there was a new senior transferring. There was a new guy at try outs and prospective workouts over the summer, who was tall and hand freckles, but he didn’t seem like much competition…besides, the quarterback was supposed to lead the team, how was this Marco guy supposed to lead the team when they didn’t know him, let alone respect him. 

Jean was so preoccupied with his outrage; he hadn’t noticed that the crowd had dissipated. “Ah, Jean! Just the one I was looking for!” Coach Smith’s voice sounded from behind him. Maybe he’d come to address his error, he must have been looking for him for a reason, right? 

“Sure coach, what do you need?” he said, finally prying himself away from the list, hoping that the scenario playing in his head was what Coach Smith was going to say. He turned to face him only to see the tall, olive-skinned boy with freckles standing beside the coach. 

“This is Marco; he just moved here over the summer, he was at summer workouts, if you remember. He’s our new starting quarterback, and I was hoping you’d show him around and help him get settled into Trost.” It was like pouring salt into his fresh wounds. Not only did this kid take Jean’s dream of being starting quarterback, but now he had to be his designated buddy too? The bell rang, signaling students to get to first period. Jean grudgingly snatched Marco’s schedule away from him, taking note that they shared first period. Wonderful. 

“Yeah, Coach, no problem.” He faked a smile before turning back to Marco. “we have health together, follow me.” Jean said robotically, not waiting for him to reply, already starting down the hall to his classroom. Marco nearly having to jog to keep up with him, lucky his long legs could catch up with Jean in just a few strides. 

“I remember you from summer workouts. You’re really good! Maybe we could go running sometime, or my dad got me a gym membership around here, it comes with a few guest passes,” he offered up cheerily. 

“Look.” Jean turned, nearly snarling. “Just because we’re on the same team doesn’t make us friends. Just because I told coach I’d show you around doesn’t mean I have to like you. Okay, so let’s get something clear right now. Don’t wanna see movies with you or anything, I don’t wanna work out with you, we are just going to coexist. Everything will be perfectly fine between us as long as you keep your face, out of my face, got it?” 

“If this is about my place as quarterback, you should really consider an ego check.” Marco retorted. “We both tried out, and I got the position fairly. It isn’t my fault the coach chose me, and I don’t intend on changing it to appease a whiney stranger. And if it isn’t about me being quarterback, I really don’t know what the hell your deal is.” He turned on his heel and walked into the classroom, picking a random seat after seeing his name had been overlooked on the teacher’s seating chart, receiving a shower of apologies from her when she noticed she’d forgotten the new student. 

“Okay class!” Miss Zoe said, sounding way too enthusiastic for eight in the morning, once the remainder of the class had filed in and found their seats. “I know they’ve pounded in the ‘don’t do drugs’ and the ‘eat healthy’ sections of the curriculum in your heads since elementary school, so I thought we’d start with an assignment that would actually teach you something!” The class groaned in response. “We all know that those raging teenaged hormones are flowing and so I want to teach you all what could be the consequences of your actions! You’re going to be assigned a partner and you’ll learn what it’s like to be a parent. 

“So this is the part where we get some stupid eggs, and then stick them in the fridge or hard boil them until it’s time to turn them in.” one of the seniors in front muttered, earning a chorus of snickers from the class because of the truth in his statement. “Sorry Sash, if that’s the assignment we can’t work together, can’t risk you eating our young.”

“That is a great point Mr. Springer, that is why you aren’t getting eggs, you’re getting these!” she cheered, holding up a doll. “They’re even programmed to cry when they’re hungry and such, like real babies! The county is loaning them to us to test how these dolls work with the assignments! Isn’t it great?!” 

“Absolutely wonderful.” Connie muttered sarcastically. Ms. Zoe ignored him and began handing out the partner assignments.

“Well, it looks like we have an odd number of boys and girls, so it looks like Jean, Marco, you’ll be a team of dads.” She said, handing Marco one of the plastic babies wrapped in a pink blanket. “Congrats! It’s a girl!” 

“You’re joking, right?” Jean stood up. Ms. Zoe shook her head.

“Might I remind you, that your partner will evaluate how much effort you put into this project, and that, along with how you take care of your baby, will determine your grades. And let me say right now, I do not discriminate for football players, so if you’re thinking about slacking off, you might find yourself on the bench.” She whispered to him before turning to the class. “Well, don’t be shy! Go meet your co-parents and name your kids!” 

Marco had already adjusted the little pink blanket, causing Jean to roll his eyes as he sat down beside Marco. “Maybe it’s fate.” Marco laughed. “I swear it’s like a cheesy tv-movie. Two people have an argument and boom! Sex Ed partners.” 

“Whatever.”

“I think we should name her Charlotte.” Marco ignored him. 

“You’re actually going to name that thing?” Jean raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t see why no—.” Marco was cut off by the sound of a baby’s cry emitting from the plastic doll, startling the both of them, nearly causing him to drop the doll. 

“Holy shit.” Jean muttered, blushing a bit when he noticed that others were staring to turn around and stare at them. “Make it stop!” 

“I don’t know how!” Marco gulped. “Maybe you hurt her feelings.” 

“See! Just like a real baby!” Ms. Zoe took the doll from Marco, putting a fake baby-bottle up to its lips. 

“Looks like we’re in this together…” Jean sighed once she handed the doll back. 

“You going to be a jerk about that too?” Marco muttered. 

“Okay. Look, we’re on the same team, and now we have to see each other even more with this screaming plastic baby thing, so why don’t we at least attempt to get along. We aren’t friends, but we can’t win states on the bench, or without working together on the field.” Jean sighed. 

“Sounds like a plan. As long as we can name her Charlotte Bodt.” He smiled. 

“No way in hell. Her name is Alice.”

“Charlotte.” Marco replied, biting back a laugh. 

“Alice.” 

“Whatever.”


	2. Annoyance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Marco is taking this baby assignment way to seriously, and Jean needs to learn to lighten up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the comments and kudos! I'm really grateful for your feedback! Feel free to leave constructive criticism, I'd love to improve.
> 
> Okay, so this chapter is short too, but they WILL get longer once the plot thickens, I assure you.

Sex Ed  
Chapter Two: Annoyance

The final bell couldn’t have taken longer to ring; it seemed as if the clock had been ticking backward for the past ninety minutes of study-hell. He’d already used a rubber band he’d found on the floor as a sling-shot, launching several pencils into the foam tiles of the ceiling. Finally, the bell rang. The blonde stood, shouldering his bag grudgingly before looking at his messy handwritten copy of Marco’s schedule. Partners and teammates or not, why the hell was it his responsibility to show the kid around, Trost High wasn’t that big, he could find his way on his own. 

But the coach had asked him, and from day one, whatever Coach Erwin had said was law. Not simply because he determined who was in the game and who was not, or the fact that any disrespect would earn the guilty party a weeks’ worth of washing over thirty grass-stained and sweat soaked uniforms. Although that was also something Jean wanted to avoid. 

Erwin Smith had been the Cornerback of Sinna State College a major prospect and a Heisman trophy winner in his day, he even played in the NFL for a few years, first-round draft pick for the Carolina Panthers as the starting Cornerback before a car accident cost him his arm and ended his career. Despite it all he was a strong man, and the embodiment of a leader. Everything Jean wished he could be. 

As if on cue, the plastic bundle of pink in his backpack began to wail. Jean figured he’d take it for the rest of the day, so that he could weasel Marco into taking it home with him so the annoying creation wouldn’t cost him any sleep. Sucker. He yanked the doll out of his bag, poking at it, trying to make it stop the incessant noise that was beginning to attract attention. 

“What? Never had Health class?” he snapped defensively at anyone that had begun to stare, nearly growling as the crying only grew louder. “Why won’t you shut UP? I don’t know what you want!” he tried everything Ms. Zoe had, pressing the fake bottle to its mouth, patting its back, rocking it. Nothing seemed to work.

‘You’ve got to be kidding. What, does this thing have diaper senses or something?’ He ducked into the boy’s bathroom. Anyone that could help it avoided the place, it only had one working sink, and half the stalls didn’t lock, and it always reeked of piss. Glancing around to ensure he was alone, Jean unsnapped the little diaper on the doll, pulled it off, and put it back on. Immediately, the baby silenced. “Ugh.” Jean muttered, tossing it back into his backpack and continuing down the hall, walking down the stairs and down another hall to Marco’s last-period class. As expected, the freckled boy stood waiting for him. 

“Where’s Charlotte?” 

Jean pointed to his backpack, raising an eyebrow when the brunette stared back at him in horror.   
“What?”

“You can’t put a baby in a backpack! It’s a living thing! Not your Calculus book!” He snatched the bag out of Jean’s hands, freeing the doll from its confines, holding it to his chest. 

“It is a doll.” Jean emphasized.

“We’re supposed to treat it like the real thing!” Marco insisted, shaking his head. “We don’t have time to argue, we have to get to practice.” Practice. Where Marco would be calling the plays, where Marco would be learning to lead his team, where fate seemed to rub it in his face that Marco Bodt was the starting quarterback, not him. Sure, it wasn’t the olive-skinned boy’s fault, but his presence only contributed to the anger and disappointment that settled in the pit of Jean’s stomach and made his throat burn. 

“Right…yeah. This way.” Jean muttered he didn’t turn to look at the taller boy; he just kept going at his brisk pace. If Marco couldn’t keep up with him, that was his own problem. 

“Wait, Jean!” he only snorted in response, trying his best not to roll his eyes. “Who is going to take care of the baby if we’re practicing?” Jean’s palm collided with his forehead so hard that there was a loud SMACK that resonated through the empty Phys. Ed hallway.   
_____________________________________________________________________________________  
Marco sat on the ground, stretching while the Coach handed out the pads and jerseys to all the players.   
“Oh hey there! I think I remember you from summer workouts, are you new?” a small blonde boy stood over him, a curtain blonde hair obscuring all of his face. 

“Yeah! Can I help you?” Marco smiled back up at him, he didn’t think the boy could be on the team, he could be wrong, but the boy looked so frail. “You play?”

“Psh, no!” he laughed. “I-in case it isn’t obvious,” he added, blushing. “I’m Armin, one of the equipment manager.” Armin…he’d heard of that name, the boy was a senior, despite his stature and voice that had made Marco nearly mistakes him for a freshman at first. “I just f-figured I’d say hi…I know it isn’t easy moving to a new school, I just came here last year.” 

Armin seemed so reserved, but it brought a smile to Marco’s lips, and it seemed to spread almost instantaneously to the other boy’s bright blue eyes, his own lips pulling up into a sincere grin. “Definitely could use some advice about some good places to study and eat in this town.” Marco laughed, rolling over into a push-up position, tilting his head to the side so he could continue the conversations as he did his reps, but when he lifted his head to resume, Armin had scurried off to the other side of the room, talking to one of the other players. A few seconds later, he returned with the brunette in tow. Marco stood. “Er..hi! I’m Marco.”

“Figured we ought to get to know each other,” the brunette said before taking a long swig from his water bottle, it wasn’t even officially time to warm-up and he was already pushing himself as hard as he could. “I’m Eren, running back; I see you’ve met Armin.” Marco only nodded, slightly in awe over the shorter boy’s intense blue-green eyes. “A couple of the guys and I were gonna go out and get some pizza after practice to celebrate the kickoff of the new season, you should come.” 

“Thanks but you really don’t have to do that—you don’t have to feel obligated to--.”

“No, no! It really would be cool if you came, if we’re going to play on this team together, we should get to know each other. It takes more than a few key players to get to states.” The flash of determination in his eyes when he mentioned states was fierce, almost frightening, like an obsession, as if his life’s purpose was dependent upon winning that title. Marco didn’t question it. For some people, a title like that would attract college attention and possibly earn them a full ride to the school of their choice. Maybe that was the spirit that the team needed, he felt the weight of being the team leader on his shoulders for the first time, but it felt natural. 

“Hah, yeah. I wish everyone else felt that way…” Marco murmured, glancing in Jeans direction for a fraction of a second. 

“Don’t worry about Kirschtien, he’s got a bug up his ass because he didn’t make quarterback. I bet the first time you get sacked he’ll change his tone—not that we’d want you getting sacked.” Eren said.

“Well…then I’d love to hang out with you guys if you really don’t mind…but I have to warn you…I have this project in health…the parenting one…and I promised Jean I’d take it after practice.” 

“…Ms. Zoe’s class?” Eren smirked, Marco nodded. “Good luck, you’ll need it.”

“Alright! Enough socializing.” Erwin called out to his team, who stood at attention in response to his whistle. “Equipment is assigned, we’ll suit up in the pads and run some blocking drills in a minute, but since I haven’t seen you slackers since summer workouts, I think a run is in order. Seven laps around the field then come back to the center.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________  
Marco was in the middle of his fourth lap, keeping a steady pace in the middle of the pack, falling right in stride beside Jean, much to the other’s displeasure. “Are practices always like this here?” he asked. 

“He makes us run two extra if we lose or make him mad.” 

There was a loud wailing from Jean’s backpack. “Ugh! Not now!” He groaned. Without another word Marco jogged off to the bleachers to silence the source of the sound, rejoining the rest of the team as soon as he could. “We have a domestic for a quarterback. Grrrreat.” Well, he couldn't possibly be more irritating in Jean's mind, but he couldn't complain TOO much, at least his GPA would benefit from it. But as practice continued, Jean couldn't figure out what irritated him more: the way the team automatically listened to Marco, or the way Marco was a natural at calling and changing the plays on the fly when the defense in the practice drills would foil the plan Coach Smith had told him to run, or the way Marco got off the field more than once to take care of that screaming hellion of a health project...but to his surprise, what pissed Jean off the most, was when Marco didn't follow after him like a puppy after practice, but instead got into Eren Jaegar's car with some other teammates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have some big plans for Armin in this story! If this fic goes over well, there might be a second one focusing on Armin and Eren ;)
> 
>  
> 
> Feedback is always much appreciated!  
> Feel free to say hi to me or ask me questions about the story on tumblr: http://crimsonlovesong.tumblr.com
> 
> Thanks!


	3. Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean realizes he needs to stop being a prick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh, I am so sorry I took so long to update! Truth be told this story slipped my mind, and as much as I'm trying to keep it slow and steady, I'm trying to get to what I have planned in the next few chapters pretty soon. Thank you all for all the Kudos and Comments, I really appreciate each and every one and I would love some more feedback as I go in to planning chapter 4

Chapter Three: Enough 

Jean glared down at his phone and cursed its lack of messages. He was well aware most of his friends were out stuffing their faces at the diner with Eren, but he was half expecting at least a _‘what’s up?’_   from his friend Connie or maybe some goofy text from Marco about the stupid project. Stupid Marco and his stupid imitation baby in his stupid health class and stupid Marco with his stupid freckles and his stupid kindness and stupid smile. What irritated him the most is the fact he couldn’t figure out _why_ it angered him so much that Marco was out with Eren? They were teammates, and Marco was new, he had every right to do what he wanted, and who he wanted to hang out with, it was not like Jean cared. So why did he? Why was he being so…pathetic?   
  
As much as he hated to admit it, the freckled boy had already grown on him. Either that or he was starting to feel guilty. Maybe he’d been a bit a jerk to Marco--okay he had most _definitely_ been an _enormous_ jerk to Marco, it wasn’t his fault that he was chosen as the quarterback, and Coach Smith, who Jean damn near idolized—a professional football player at one time, had chosen him, so there must have been good reason, right? Sure, his eagerness toward their health project was a bit odd, but everyone had their own thing. No, he didn’t have to be friends with the boy, but he could sure as hell work on being a civil human being towards him.   
  
There was only one real issue—the apology factor. Jean was never really one to admit he was wrong without a fight, it was normally something he took pride in, the ability to stand up for himself…but when he was wrong, it was hard for him to own up to it without either sounding like a complete asshole or making everything really awkward. Oh well, Marco seemed like a pretty understanding guy if he put up with Jean’s bullshit all day without complaint, he still needed to do the right thing. He took a deep breath and unlocked his phone.   
  
**To: Marco  
Hey…how’s the baby?   
  
** Oh god, why did he send _that_ first? Why didn’t he send his apology and then say nothing else? Now any hopes of not sounding weird had flown right out the window. However, he heard his phone vibrate across the table just a few seconds later.   
  
**From: Marco  
Finally calling her a baby huh?  
  
** Ugh. He wasn’t going to hear the end of _that_ either, was he? What the hell else was he supposed to call it though? “stupid ass imitation dummy thing” would just be a pain to text rather than the four letters it would take to spell out baby. Jean read the message over a few times, trying to imagine Marco's laugh, then what he would sound like if he was being sarcastic, if that freckled dork could even manage being sarcastic. That kid was too damn nice, but the more he read it over, the more he was convinced there was some amount of snark in Prince Charming's intentions.  
  
 **From: Marco  
She’s fine, btw  
  
** Yep, snarkiness confirmed. Whatever, he didn't have time to put up with the sarcasm. He still had homework to do.  
 ****  
  
To: Marco  
K. just checkin, I guess I’ll take her tomorrow night.  
  
Well, that was a wondrous apology alright, Jean mentally kicked himself. Plunging into an ‘I’m sorry’ after all that baby talk would just be awkward, he supposed he could casually bring it up when Marco would drop their bundle of irritation off so Jean could watch it. Yeah, that sounded like a plan. Giving up on any hope of one of the guys asking him to hang out, he tossed his phone aside and turned his attention to his laptop but after ten minutes of staring at the same paragraph about Jane Eyre his productivity was dead, instead he opted to take the famous Kirschtien procrastination route and logged into Netflix, figuringhe could binge-watch the rest of Breaking Bad before bed since he hadn’t yet been able to keep up with it due to the heavy summer workout schedule.   
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile, Marco sat scrunched in one of the large, and rather sticky for reasons he wasn't sure he wanted to know, corner booths at a small diner called Carla’s. According to the guys, the food, while probably a nightmare for their arteries was totally worth the increased risk of cardiac arrest, and from the way the burgers from a few booths over smelled, he could certainly agree. It was also a large perk that their food was highly discounted too, seeing as Eren’s parents owned the place. Cheap food when you’re on a budget would always be a plus   
  
“S-shouldn’t we have invited Jean too?” Bertholdt asked timidly as the waitress set a hearty order of cheese fries in the center of the table.   
  
“Kirschtien’s a big boy, if he wanted to come, he would have said something.” the left tackle, Reiner Braun, shrugged, tossing a handful in his mouth. Marco shifted uncomfortably at the name, sure Jean wasn’t exactly the friendliest, but something in his voice suggested that Jean wouldn’t have been welcome, even if he had in fact wanted to come.   
  
“So…” he turned to Armin. “What’s it like to be a team manager?”   
  
“Oh, it’s alright I suppose.” The blonde said timidly. “Truth be told I’m not very interested in sports. I’m more of a chess-club kind of guy—president by the way if there is any off chance you’d be interested in joining—but Eren convinced me to be the manager of the team to get to know some of the guys, they really stick up for you when you get them to like you…and being friends with Eren sure made that easy.”   
  
The fellow in question glanced up, scanning over Marco before tapping him on the shoulder. “Can we talk a sec?” he leaned in closer. “Like, outside?”  
  
“Sure, hey Armin, can you watch my project for a sec?” he sat the baby carrier that had been situated under the table on his seat as he stood, following the tanned male outside, Armin looking nervous all the while. In a few long strides he’d caught up to Eren, leaning against his grey Subaru and tapping his foot impatiently.   
  
“Since you’re new I guess you haven’t heard about Armin yet.” Eren said before Marco could question. “See, last year he had a real hard time with everything and everybody, given Trost is such a conservative-thinking area, but I’m just gonna come outright and say it. Armin is a transgender, and everyone on the team has learned to respect it or to shut the hell up about it if they have a problem otherwise. We look out for him, because god knows he has a hell of a time in school, and if you have a problem with it you have a problem with me.”  
  
“Why would I have a problem with it? He’s a nice guy.” Marco replied, taken aback. “I’m sorry if I did anything to make you thing otherwise but—.”  
  
“Oh? You didn’t do anything.” Eren laughed, trying to break the sudden tension. “We’re just, close y’know. I grew up with him. I just want to make sure everyone on the team can respect him for who he is.”  
  
“The only concern I’d have about Armin is how badly he’d whoop my ass in a chess match.” The quarterback chuckled, it seemed to make Eren smile.   
  
“I knew you were a good guy. Don’t worry about Kirschtien, he’ll come around when he’s ready.” He started back towards the door. “Thanks, Marco.” Marco felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He told Eren to go ahead back to the table and slid his phone out of his pocket to check the message.   
  
**From: Jean**

 **Hey…how’s the baby?  
**  
Those four words made him smile. Sure, he’d only known Jean for a day, but in that one day he’d figured out enough about him to know that he sure as hell did not actually care about the well-being of some imitation baby. If Jean was asking about their ‘daughter’, he was trying to take initiative and talk to Marco. Sure, it wasn’t any sort of apology for his rudeness, but it was him trying to move past whatever his problem with Marco was and the extension of the metaphorical olive branch that Marco hoped lead to friendship, and that was definitely better than some halfhearted utterance of “I’m Sorry” , but it sure as heck didn’t mean he wasn’t going to revel in his little victory.   
  
**To: Jean**

 **Finally calling her a baby huh?  
  
** He felt himself snickering lightly as he pressed the send button, hoping for some snarky retort from Jean. Sure, they weren’t exactly friends (yet…), but it didn’t mean there weren’t things about Jean Kirschtien that interested him. One of those things being that snarky, grumpy disposition. Heck, if it didn’t turn him into a raving jerk it could almost be endearing.   
  
  
**To: Jean**

 **She’s fine, btw**  
  
From: Marco

 **K. just checkin, I guess I’ll take her tomorrow night.**  
  
Was that him pulling his share of the project? Or an actual attempt to make contact with the freckled boy? Either way, it was a relief to know his teammate was reliable, even if he was grumpy and unfriendly. With a glance in the window Marco saw that their pizza had been brought to the table, and with a smile he slipped his phone back in his pocket and hurried inside, ready to see if this food was as good as everyone kept claiming.


	4. Sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jean sucks at apologizing, and will do anything to keep his pride in tact, and Marco is a little shit and decides that he just won't have that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, sorry to those of you waiting on chapter 5, but this is a repost because I did some major edits (about a thousand words worth) to chapter 4 before realizing I had already posted that one (way too long ago I might add) to better fit the aspects of Jean and Marco's personalities I want to portray and to keep it consistent with previous chapters.
> 
> (I'd advise reading this chapter again though, you may find it more humorous with all these edits :3)  
> Chapter 5 should be up by wednesday because I'm on a writing kick with this story. Some art of quarterback! Marco and some of the conversations in this chapter will probably be up tomorrow afternoon as well for any lovelies that follow me on tumblr :3 
> 
> http://Crimsonlovesong.tumblr.com

Chapter Four: Sorry

 _Beep Beep Beep!_   Jean was so rudely awakened by the shrill tone of his alarm clock. He grunted, face buried in the pillow while he swatted blindly in the direction of the sound in hopes of finding the snooze button, but to no avail. Slowly, he pried open contemptuous gold eyes, glaring at the florescent green numbers with such disdain that it was surprising the clock didn’t melt from the heat of his gaze. Whoever decided to have school start so damn early obviously must have hated children and wanted them to suffer; six-thirty in the morning was a ridiculous time for any human being to be awake. Granted, he probably would not be as tired had he not stayed up until two to finish the season finale of Breaking Bad, but that was something actually interesting, unlike school.

Jean stretched and yawned before checking his phone, raising an eyebrow at the number of text messages waiting in his inbox.  
  
 **From:**  
 **Marco 1:30 am**  
 **Hey, you awake? From: Marco 1:35 Oh my god this thing will not shut up**

 **From: Marco**  
 **2:20 am**  
 **I really doubt you’re awake but I feel like I should just warn you I am in baby hell. Company would be nice**  
  
 **From: Marco**  
3:15 am  
Sorry for the language…but…fuck this project.  
  
The thought of the freckle-faced golden boy swearing made his lips twist into an involuntary smirk. Damn, the poor guy must be exhausted if he was up and down past three in the morning with that stupid project. Jean didn’t know whether to commend Ms. Zoe for her dedication to teaching them a realistic experience and for irritating the hell out of a guy he didn’t particularly like (even if it was unjust and for selfish reasons but he was way too tired to even attempt contemplating guilt over that one), or whether to curse her for her obvious attempts to kill them with the screaming robotic hellions when Jean remembered he would have to deal with the damned thing as well. He felt the wheels in his mind begin to turn slowly, fighting off the early-morning sluggishness—he still needed to apologize…and Marco would probably be way too tired to want to—or really be safe to drive, assuming he didn’t live too far away, maybe it could be his chance to make it up to him for being such a dick—without having to actually say the dreaded s-word. He could just go fifteen or twenty minutes out of his way to pick Marco up and then drive him to school, and Marco could nap in the passenger seat until first bell. Then they’d be even, right? As soon as he’d brushed his teeth and put on a clean pair of jeans and what he could only assume by the not-gross smell was a clean shirt (he realized at some point in this routine that he really had ought to clean his room up a bit when he found the time…) Jean had his phone to his ear, waiting for his beloved Keurig to cooperate.  
  
“…nyeh…hello?” the voice from the other side groaned half-coherently.  
  
“Morning sleeping beauty, how’s the kid?” he replied sarcastically.  
  
“…I think Ms. Zoe is trying to kill us……w-wait, why are you calling me?”  
  
“…where do you live? You were up late, can’t have you over tired and driving, precious cargo n’ shit in the car. I’ll drive you to school.” He heard Marco chuckle.  
  
“Since when do you care about the baby?” _ugh, did he have to keep calling it that?!_  
  
“Since if it gets destroyed in a car wreck we can forget about passing the class, which means we can also forget about any hope of going to states. Now just tell me where the hell you live.” Jean grumbled.  
  
“ 7th house from the end in the Jinae housing development…Do you know where that is? I-is that too far?” Jean nearly dropped the phone, “Really Jean, I can manage, it’s no big deal.”  
  
“You live within walking distance of my place…” he muttered into the phone, mostly to himself. It was a shame he couldn’t stand Marco, living so close meant he could have someone to hang out with at random hours binge watch Netflix with or to play Mario Kart with at three in the morning or to go on late night Taco Bell or Denny’s runs on whim without worrying about waking the whole house up by calling a damn phone. “Oh…cool…just give me the number and I can come meet you when I’m ready…no sense in driving up here if you’re so close.” “Sounds like a plan. I live in the housing development called Maria, just walk to the Jinae intersection and hang a left, big house on the end, you can’t possibly miss it. Kay see you then.” Jean yawned, not even waiting for a reply before tapping the ‘end call’ icon on his screen, pouring himself a cup of coffee before going to sit out on his porch to wait for Marco. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
When Jean had said the “big house on the end” , Marco didn’t expect him to mean the damn-near mansion that dwarfed the rest of the neighborhood in comparison. He thought Jean looked like the wealthy kind of guy, but damn. What kind of jobs did his parents have to afford a place like that? Backpack slung on one shoulder, makeshift baby carrier in the other hand, he really looked like one of those people from one of those teen-parenthood reality shows that his little sister was so insistent on watching; Apparently the elderly woman sitting on her porch thought so as well, grumbling something to her husband while her eyes never left the carrier in Marco’s hand. Marco just shrugged and yawned rather loudly, cursing himself for forgetting his mug of tea sitting on the kitchen counter. Sure, coffee had more caffeine but he couldn’t stand the taste, even if his mother insisted there was a good amount of Italian in his heritage. Tea wasn’t as strong; it was smoother, not as harsh. He nearly snorted when the blonde he was supposed to meet up with came to mind. _Damn_ , he must have been tired, comparing Jean to a cup of coffee, but it seemed fitting. Jean probably liked coffee. He was blunt and perhaps a bit brash, definitely could count as bitter also if his behavior from the other day was taken into consideration. In essence, _Jean Kirschtien was just like a cup of black coffee._ But he probably had some great qualities to him too, like those gourmet coffee beans his mother would buy that she insisted had exotic flavor or a robust aftertaste or something of that nature that Marco just plain couldn’t understand.  
  
Marco shook his head, trying to rid his mind of the weird coffee-themed jargon, feeling thankful least the morning chill would do some to wake him, even if he could go without the misty drizzle wetting him just enough to be cold and irritating. Marco walked up the driveway to Jean’s house, all the while trying to convince himself it wasn’t some sort of dream; Jean was on the porch waiting for him, leaning against one of the faux (or was it real?) stone pillars that decorated the front entrance.  
  
“Whoa…nice place.” Marco beamed at him despite the sleepiness evident in his dull eyes with heavy bags shadowed underneath them. “Morning.” He grinned. Jean only grunted, drinking his coffee. “I uh…I can’t thank you enough for giving me a ride to –yawn—school.”  
  
“Yeah.” Jean’s own hair was all over the place, hidden beneath a beanie except for the bangs that peeked out at odd angles from beneath the edge. He finished his coffee in one large gulp and straightened up, grabbing the carrier from Marco. “…Said I’d take her—I mean IT for today.” He mumbled, unlocking the car and tossing the carrier carelessly in the back seat, praying to any deity out there that Marco was too tired to give him crap about the slip up. It was too damn early for that goofy freckled grin to rub an ‘ _I told you so’_ into Jean’s pride which was already taking a hit—however minor it may be.  
  
“Jean—that’s not how…you need to--”  
  
“Marco it is plastic. Plastic babies cannot get broken bones or whiplash. If it could I think Ms. Zoe would be working for something a little more advanced than a high school health class.” Okay, so maybe that came out a bit more harshly than he’d intended. “Sorry.” _Ugh, that word_. The tanned boy only shrugged in reply, evidently too tired to argue. Instead he leaned his head against the passenger window, eyes already fluttering shut. It seemed like no time until Jean was poking him in the shoulder. “Hey. Hey wake up. We’re here.”  
  
“Oh… -yawn- thanks again.” Marco stepped out of the car, slinging his bag back over his shoulder as Jean did the same.  
  
“So uh, why transfer in your senior year? Kinda sucks having to make all new friends, doesn’t it?” Wow, he was such a whiz at small talk. If kicking himself mentally could cause bruising, he’d most likely be hospitalized with the way he has been going.  
  
“My dad uh, lost his job back in the spring, so money’s been tight, really tight. I’ve always wanted to go to Sina state college, and I think I have the grades to do it too…but it’s so expensive. I’ve always been pretty good at playing football, but my old high school just didn’t have a division that was impressive enough for scouts…but my cousin Ymir told me about how Trost is in first division and is like, known for its sports teams—especially football….so I figured transferring might be able to get me a scholarship. So my Uncle is letting me stay with his family for the school year.”  
  
 _Whoa, so this guy has a pretty good head on his shoulders_ , Jean didn’t even have the slightest idea about what he wanted to do after high school. Sure, football would be great, but realistically aside from that he didn’t exactly know what the hell else to do, and did he really have any shot at making it to the NFL? He sure wished.  
“Whoa…that’s some pretty heavy stuff.” Jean said quietly. “Sounds like you got it all figured out.” Meanwhile his only plans had been be the ‘super cool’ quarterback that got all the attention from the school just like his father had back in his day. There went that plan. At least he had his parents business to fall back on if he really was that desperate.  
  
Marco stifled a laugh. “It’s really more of a shot in the dark. My mother was absolutely livid when I told her, since my old school was technically better if those standardized test scores actually count as academic success…” he shrugged. “I mean, I guess I do okay grades-wise, but I don’t think that my grades and SAT scores are good enough to warrant me the kind of scholarship money it would take me to get to Sina, y’know.”  
  
As interesting as it sounded, Jean only wished he’d shut up. Not to be rude, (for once…) but because the more Marco talked about school and colleges the more Jean realized that in about eight months reality was going to bitch slap him and he was not ready for that. Instead he actually contributed to the conversation, using the mention of football to hop on a tangent about practice and some of the player specs he knew about some of the rival high schools. The more he talked the more he realized that he really did not want to hate this freckled asshole, and that Marco was indeed, without even trying to be, an asshole for being so damned hard to be mad at They made it to the door just as the first bell rang and once again Marco followed Jean like a big brown eyed puppy to their health class “By the way, Jean?” Marco whispered as they took their seats while Ms. Zoe went on, perhaps a bit too excitedly about some documentary she’d seen on the discovery channel the night before. “If this morning was some form of apology, I might just accept it, if you actually say the words.” He smirked.  
  
“What do you mean mi---I mean…nah, just helping you out, for the project.” Jean slumped backward in his chair, crossing his arms and refusing to make eye contact with the taller boy. Sure, it had been his intent but there was no way he was actually going to admit it! “It’s just two little words! Don’t tell me that the _Jean Kirschtien_ that everybody knows is really afraid to say two _itty-bitty_ words.” He talked with his hands, holding them out at the final word in mock exasperation.  
  
“If you don’t stop using that tone with me I will totally reconsider my decision to invite you to my party this weekend.” Jean grumbled. Okay. He was admitting defeat. He couldn’t hate the Italian with the puppy-dog eyes. He was just too…too nice. Not the fake kind of nice, or the pushover kind of nice, but the ‘I’m not going to take your bullshit but I’m not going to be a big drama queen and start a fight about it’ kind of nice. The kind of person that admittedly, Jean probably needed. But did it mean he was going to actually apologize? Hell no.  
  
“W-what?” The look on his face was priceless; he nearly fell out of his chair before a dark eyebrow rose up quizzically. “you’d invite me to a party?”  
  
“Well yeah…why not?” Jean only shrugged, looking away. He knew exactly why. Marco scoffed audibly. “Do you want to go to the damn party or not.”  
  
“Sure…I guess but I wanna know what made you do some sort of 180 turnaround. Yesterday you’d be glad if I got hit by a bus, now you want me to come to some party. What the hell are you playing at Kirschtien.”  
  
“You’re like a tumor or some shit. You grow on people.” Jean said matter-of-factly, looking away. Yeah, tumor. Didn’t sound like a friendly or apologetic word, so at least whatever left of his pride could remain there loosely-intact. “A tumor….”  
  
“Yeah.” “Whatever you say Jean…” Marco sighed and rolled his eyes before turning around to actually pay attention to the lesson that was beginning, turning back to him halfway through the lesson, mouth agape, Jean was wondering if he was going to regret inviting Marco to the damn party if it was going to turn him into such a chatterbox. But as soon as Ms. Zoe said the word ‘placenta’ he welcomed the distraction wholeheartedly, thanking the freckled god beside him that he had something to shield him from whatever was making Connie look ready to faint. “If we’re going to be at a party, who is going to be taking care of the---.”  
  
“Don’t. You. Dare.” Jean whispered. Marco only smirked. “I mean it Bodt.” How did someone who looked so friendly and innocent actually be such an evil little asshole. “Baby.” He grinned. “Ughhhhh” “Y’know, we could reach an agreement.” The freckled-demon whispered, his voice lower than before, his lips still pulled into a wide grin. “You say those two words you’ve been dancing around all morning and I will stop taking this project so seriously, I’ll even refrain from calling it a baby for a whole week.” Oh god. This was torture. This guy was freckled satan, no exceptions.  
  
“…I’d rather listen to Ms. Zoe say placenta over a thousand times.”  
  
“Glad to hear it Jean!” The teacher grinned, standing above him, having caught them not paying attention. “In fact, this one’s just for you. Placenta! Now if  
you’ll kindly pay attention, so we can move on if the word is so very strange to you.”  
  
“….I take that back.” He whispered to Marco once she’d left his desk to go chide Sasha about eating in class. “But I’m still not gonna say it.” “Baby. Placenta.” Marco whispered, when Jean refused to look at him, he slid a note over to Jean’s desk, with the very same words written on it.  
  
 **** _‘FUCKING REALLY?!_ ’ he saw scrawled on the note a few moments later.  
  
“This isn’t over Kirschtien.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, this has probably been done to death, but yeah, the parenting assignment! I thought this idea would be really cute to do with these two dorks. I'd really appreciate some comments and kudos for feedback! 
> 
> this chapter is on the short side, but I promise the next will be longer
> 
>  
> 
> feel free to tell me your opinions here, or on my tumblr: http://crimsonlovesong.tumblr.com


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